


On The Side Of Angels

by PursuitOfDiscovery



Series: Two Hundred and Twenty One Baker Streets [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Sherlock, Angels, M/M, Sherlock AU, Smut, Wings AU, angel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PursuitOfDiscovery/pseuds/PursuitOfDiscovery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock is an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Side Of Angels

Sherlock flexed his shoulders. It had been far too long since he had opened them. And as much as he wanted John to see him like this, he knew John wouldn’t be able to handle it.

He wouldn’t be able to handle Sherlock’s wings.

His parents had kept it a secret from everyone and although no one knew what had happened, they had made sure that Sherlock was protected. A house in the countryside, and Sherlock flew to his heart’s content.

London, however, was different. No open spaces, nowhere private to go to. Sherlock had to limit his privacy to his room.

The wooden floorboards outside his bedroom creaked. Sherlock turned.

John.

***

John knew that his flatmate was a lot of things. He was an arrogant git, pompous bastard, a flourishing musician, a brilliant genius. He didn’t know that Sherlock was a motherfucking _angel_.

He stood there, probably looking like a goldfish with his gaping mouth, but this was insane. _How_ had he missed this? Sherlock looked just as stricken.

“John…” Sherlock ventured, carefully.

John turned and left.

***

Sighing, Sherlock ran out, his wings still out in the open. He had to explain it to John before he headed off to a pub or some nonsense.

John was sitting on the couch.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“John, nobody knows. You can’t expect me to tell you something of this significance; I am scared.” Sherlock shot back.

John looked up at him, eyes softening. “I’m sorry. I-I just need to think. Excuse me,” he muttered.

Well, _that_ could have gone worse.

***

It was days before John stepped into Sherlock’s room again. Sherlock had made it a habit of keeping his wings out whenever they had the privacy, all in the hopes that John would get used to them. And if John was being truthful to himself, it worked. But he wanted more than that. He wanted to run his hands over those wings, to touch and feel.

Now was his chance.

Sherlock had his back to him, his wings crowding the room. John cleared his throat. Sherlock turned.

They stared at each other, the tension in the room building with each second. John slowly stepped forward, not wanting to alarm his flatmate. Sherlock smiled.

The wings, black as obsidian, enveloped him in a warm embrace. John stared in wonder, tracing each feather down to its core. Sherlock kept his eyes trained on him the whole time, both of them embracing this new step in their relationship.

John laid his hands on Sherlock’s bare chest, drawing a deep breath from him. His pupils dilated, only a sliver of those ethereal eyes showing. His wings ruffled, drawing John closer still, as his hands worked their way down his shirt.

***

Sherlock was holding a very naked John. In his wings.

He could hardly believe that after all John had seen, he still trusted him. He could hardly believe, but he would be fool to let this moment pass. He used his hands to pin John’s arms to the door, his wings teasing and torturing him, tracing a tormenting line from his abdomen and trailing further down. John gasped, the heat of his member throbbing at the touch of those goddamn wings. Sherlock smirked.

Using his feathers to his advantage, Sherlock laid John on his bed, arms and legs sprawled and ready for the careful administrations of his wings.

“Sherlock.” John bit back a heady moan.

Sherlock trailed his feathers all over John’s body, quick flicks near his squirming thighs, careful swirls on his lower torso, his movements slow and precise. With his hands on either side of John’s hips, he bucked down to take his cock to his mouth, kissing and sucking with all his might. It didn’t last long, with John squirming and impatient.

“Sherlock, will you please fucking hurry up?”

Sherlock almost laughed. With a rush of affection, he swept his wings around John, hugging him.

“I love you.” He whispered.

John pulled back, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy. Smiling, he replied.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me; they're BBC's works of fiction.  
> This is my first attempt at fan fiction; do not hesitate to comment/criticise.


End file.
